Tonight's Poet Corner: Dejeration
Dejeration
by Belinda Roddie
She swore she'd always love me
as we buried ourselves in our nests, the
five foot lamp abusing us with its
hostile lighting. Her kisses left prints
on the Bible between us,
to tell the truth, and nothing but the truth,
but in the end, no matter how solemnly one
swears, the windshield of the moving car
cracks just a little, lets too much warm air
in, and stifles vocabulary until it's dried out and
crunches under my bare feet, like it did
beneath her skidding shoes as she ran with two
suitcases under her arms.
by Belinda Roddie
She swore she'd always love me
as we buried ourselves in our nests, the
five foot lamp abusing us with its
hostile lighting. Her kisses left prints
on the Bible between us,
to tell the truth, and nothing but the truth,
but in the end, no matter how solemnly one
swears, the windshield of the moving car
cracks just a little, lets too much warm air
in, and stifles vocabulary until it's dried out and
crunches under my bare feet, like it did
beneath her skidding shoes as she ran with two
suitcases under her arms.
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